


A Slightly Delayed "Thanks"

by snickering_lemon



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Underfell Grillby, Underfell Papyrus, Underfell Sans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 03:55:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12290688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snickering_lemon/pseuds/snickering_lemon
Summary: A brief look into the life Sans lived with his baby brother Papyrus.[Takes place in the Underfell Universe]





	A Slightly Delayed "Thanks"

**Author's Note:**

> oh undertale how i've missed you. the underfell bros always looked to be so tough to me but i bet they've got some good ol' family feelings and family love going on in there, oh i betcha.

     The morning starts with Sans’ fight or flight instinct jerking him into a shaky wakefulness. The shock of his sudden wake up has him gasping in alarm as he jerks into an upright position, his head looking left and right to spot the cause of his sudden departure from sleep.

     It comes in the form of a screaming skeleton infant, as it always does every time he oversleeps. Which is, of course, every single morning.

     “F…Fuck.” Sans grits out, closing his eyes and setting his small hand on his coat- right over where his soul should be. He’s still shaking and he has to dig his fingers into the fabric of his black jacket, practically clawing into it as he fidgets with the fabric.

     “Really wish you didn’t have to get my attention like that, Paps.” His eyes are still closed to the world around him, a thin drop of sweat rolling down his cranium, but he can hear Papyrus kick his tiny legs against the floor anyways as he tries to roll himself over and make his way over to his older brother.

     God, what a morning it would be if his bro could just wake him up like any other baby does. Maybe a slap to the face or a pull to his teeth would be fine; but screaming to get his attention?

     Awful.

     Should he stop immediately waking up each time the little brat screams out like that? Would that teach Papyrus to quit using his voice so damned loudly just to get his attention?

     All Sans can see in store for himself if he dares try to experiment on that is a migraine and some good ol’ tinnitus.

     “Fuck.” He repeats, this time sounding much more annoyed.

     It seems to excite his little brother and inspires him enough to finally get himself on all fours and quickly make his way over to the older skeleton. When he does, Papyrus sets his tiny hands on Sans’ thigh, looking up at him expectantly.

     “Yeah, yeah.” The little booger is a lot more spoiled than Sans ever was, but deep down this is a fact that brings some sort of…pride and a sense of accomplishment in the older of the two. If the kid’s feeling like he’s obligated to be given affection of any sort, this must mean that Sans is doing well as a caretaker and big brother, right?

     Nevertheless Sans wraps his arms around his baby brother and pulls him close, curling around him as he falls back and let’s himself return to the comfort of their single mattress.

     For a while, things are peaceful. Papyrus is tolerating being pressed up against the soft cushion of Sans’ signature black jacket, and he’s doing so quietly. Too occupied bringing his little bony fist to his mouth and sucking on it to try and be a noisy little shit. Too easily, Sans began to let himself quickly fall back into the comfort of sleep.

     He could feel tiny hands trying to prevent this, pulling at his jacket and poking into his nasal cavity, but it was to no avail. Papyrus was dismissed with brief mutterings and then Sans was out like a light. Snoring into the soft, fuzzy cloth of his infant brother’s onesie.

     Yeah…nice and soft.

     Sans wishes his little brother would let him hug him in his sleep like this more often. The kid’s pretty comfortable to hold. It’s even better being able to snuggle his face into those soft pajamas of his.

     Before his mind can conjure up a dream for him to forget his worries in, Sans is once more forced into the chill of the real world by a shrill scream and a slap to the face.

     Good god it was so much worse when Papyrus was this close to him. He’s never going to keep the little brat this close while he’s sleeping again.

     “Fucking hell, Papyrus.” What a wonderful way to start the morning, spouting just enough ‘fucks’ to really get it across how much Sans disliked waking up. Especially in the presence of the little booger eater.

     “Why the hell do you’ve got to be such a needy brat?” He growls out, finally sitting up and rubbing the heel of his palm into the hollow of his eyes and the bone around it. Sans doesn’t even begin to think of what time it must be; knowing damn well that his awful spawn of a brother has woken him up at the ass crack of dawn again. Like he always seems to find to be appropriate.

     Taking a break from rubbing his ‘eyes’, Sans looks down at the very source of his joy and misery.

     He’s lying on his back, holding his own little foot and trying to chew on it.

     “…Damn bastard.”

     Thank the heavens above that he can still get away with this kind of crap without Papyrus understanding him and getting upset.

     Starting the painful process of actually going about the day, Sans pushes himself up onto his feet and moves away from the baby currently trying to cannibalize his own foot. It takes him a moment but he finally spots what he had been seeking out, sitting right by the kitchen sink just as they were left last night. Two toothbrushes and a single tube of toothpaste.

     Chancing a harsh wind of cold air in his face- and getting just that after he opens the front door to the ‘abandoned’ house they currently reside in- Sans checks their front porch.

     Lying innocently on the shitty door mat worn away with the years gone by is an inconspicuous basket, full of various supplies meant for personal hygiene and topped off with a sweet purple bow. Right next to the basket are two take out boxes, stacked atop each other.

     God bless pity parties. It seems like Grillby is still dropping off supplies for the two of them, even after Sans had tried chasing the older guy off.

     He takes each item in his arms, careful not to let the takeout boxes spill over. The door is kicked closed behind him and the basket is left leaning against it.

     “Hey bro.” He’s setting the takeout on the safety of their mattress, doing his best to scarcely resist the urge to immediately devour the food. It seems Papyrus is sharing the same struggle as him, for he’s foregone his foot in favor of eyeing the two still-steaming boxes with a hungering desire.

     Papyrus has only the chance to roll himself over onto his belly before he’s getting scooped up in his older brother’s arms, making the young infant whine and squirm as much as he possibly can to make Sans’ life difficult.

     “You know the rules, champ.” Of course he does, he wouldn’t be whining like he is now if he didn’t already know.

     Ah. There’s the set of tiny teeth digging into his fingers he’s come to expect by now .

     “That’s right.” He’s kicked a stepping stool in front of himself, using it to bring himself above level with the sink and placing Papyrus besides it, working on undressing him. “Gotta get your teeth and other bones clean so they don’t rot away.”

     He’s kicked in the face for his troubles.

     Fair enough. Sans never really liked being bathed or getting his teeth brushed as a little baby-bone either.

\-----

    There’s literally no comprehensible reason on why someone should be wearing sunglasses inside of a building. Especially when the building itself was something as uncool as a super market. Sure the lights can be a bit annoyingly bright and fluorescent, but they’re nowhere near bright enough to require any form of eye protection.

     Grillby is just making himself look like the mega douchebag he is.

     “You look like a stinking douche with those glasses on you’s in here.”

     Sans isn’t one bit afraid to speak his mind.

     Unfortunately it doesn’t seem to phase Grillby in the way he intended. The fucker just grins down at him and makes a weird clicking noise with his mouth, accompanying it with a finger gun.

     “You’ll understand fashion when you’re older. Now go get a box of diapers down the next aisle, I’m going to be picking out the clothes for the kid.”

     Sans moves to do just that, giving the flaming monster one last look of disgust before making his leave.

     Only to get stopped by a hand grabbing him by the arm. He turns to look at the adult, a sour look on his face.

     The hell is he getting stopped for if he was just asked to go do something?

     He tries to seek out the answer in the other guy just by looking at him, but Grillby’s expression is unreadable.

     “Eh. Leave the kid with me, I’ll watch over him.”

     Sans’ scowl is quickly replaced with a brief look of panic, his eyes going wide and his body tensing up. He looks down at his little brother in his arms, clenching his jaw tightly as he watches Papyrus look around the store with an innocence only a baby like himself could achieve.

     Feeling someone staring at him, Papyrus tilts his head back and looks up at Sans, revealing the mitten clad hand he has been chewing and drooling on.

    Sans wraps his arms that little bit tighter around him.

     “N-…No.”

     Hot red magic starts to pulsate within the core of his body, his soul growing tight and feeling far too weak.

     “Sans, it’s only going to be for a m-”

     He slaps away the second approaching hand and side steps with an abnormal speed, feeling the heat of magic seep and collect behind his eye now. Papyrus has gone quiet, a rarity for the normally needy and noisy infant. Sans can feel his tiny beady eyes on him, watching him, but he can’t bring himself to care.

     Why had he agreed to this? Why the hell did he let himself think that some fucking adult was going to want to help him?

     Of course he just wanted to take from him. To take and take and take-!

     _To take away the only thing he has-!_

     “Easy Sans! Take it easy!”

     The searing heat of his magic has made it difficult for Sans to differentiate the magic in his eyes from the tears welling up. He brings up an arm, aggressively wiping his face against the sleeve of his jacket. Above the distressed noises coming from Papyrus, Sans can hear his own fast-paced breathing.

     He knows he should try running off, to leave this situation before it can escalate into anything worse.

     But he’s too upset. He’s rooted to the spot; full of disbelief and betrayal and anger and pure misery.

     Heh.

     Rooted to the spot. He should use that if he ever comes across a situation focusing plants.

     Sans chokes out a silent sob and really lets the waterworks fall.

    “Crap. Alright, alright.” Grillby hisses out, wincing at the reaction.

     He just keeps crying silent tears, even as large hands pick him up from beneath the pits and place him in the baby-seat of the shopping cart.  Sans doesn’t care, won’t ever care what’s done to himself so long as he still has his baby brother in his arms.

     He coughs, hiccupping before shifting Papyrus in his arms so that they’re facing each other.

     Papyrus has started crying too.

     A sympathetic crier…fuck.

     That just makes Sans cry even harder.

     Doesn’t his brother know not to show weakness like that? To never let himself get soft?

     The rest of the trip continues with Sans in the baby seat of the cart, holding onto his brother in a way that is uncomfortably tight- but neither complain. Papyrus just brings both mitten hands of his onto Sans’ jacket, holding onto him tightly and looking just a little bit wary of everything as they’re pushed around the store in the cart.

     At least he has that part right.

     So young, but already he’s smart enough to know to not trust anything around him that isn’t his brother.

\-----

     “Give. Him. Back.”

     There are sharp shards of glass littering the hardwood floor of Grillby’s restaurant, jagged pieces sticking upwards in a ready attempt to pierce through any poor monster’s bare feet. The door is to the right of the window, left untouched. It would have been less of an effort for him to just go through it like a normal person.

     But breaking through the fucker’s restaurant window gives Sans just a smidge of satisfaction. It lets everyone know the fire monster’s done something to deserve it.

     Grillby just makes a noise of exhaustion, reaching up to cover his face. He looks ready to complain, to spew some bullshit that has nothing to do with the whereabouts of his brother, so Sans interrupts him before he can start.

     “Where is he?” He asks again, voice cold and hollow.

     “Sans-,” He starts, and there it is again. The tone that lets Sans know damn well that Grillby isn’t going to give him what he wants.

     He doesn’t give a shit about the restaurant patrons making their leave to avoid whatever’s about to go down. He conjures up a few magic attacks and points them at Grillby. A warning shot is blown; three sets of bones (six in total) slice through the flames of Grillby’s body.

     “ _Where is he?!_ ” Sans finally shouts, his voice sounding more animalistic than ever.

     A monster child’s magic can only do so much against an adult with enough experience to brace themselves against his attack. Even worse is the fact that Sans isn’t doing so hot himself right now.

     Actually- that’s kind of the opposite of what’s going on.

     He’s a little too hot right now. Has been for the past few days. Sans has suffered through the sniffles, coughing, boiling up, and even throwing up into the sink of his and Papyrus’ home. But not once had he stopped trying to go through the daily routines, for Papyrus’ sake. If he wasn’t taking care of the kid, who would?

     Of course a shifty little rat like Grillby would wait until he’s weak and vulnerable to try and steal from him. When his magic attacks wouldn’t do as much damage as they normally would. Of fucking course.

     But he still tries anyways.

     “Sans, you’ve got to calm-!”

     Another set of bones slice into the other monster and Sans tries to not pay attention to the way Grillby stumbles back and wraps an arm around his midsection.

     Good, the fucker deserves to be in pain.

     “That doesn’t sound like you’re about to tell me where you’ve got my little brother at.” He growls, voice low and shaky.

     He’s barely gotten two attacks out and already he feels about ready to pass out. Damn this sickness, and damn himself for ever putting trust in another monster.

     The restaurant has emptied out by now, with the monsters having scuffled past Sans in a hushed silence. He could feel a few of them staring even as they made their exit. They didn’t want to get caught up in the danger of what could become a death match, but they sure as hell seemed to want to watch.

     Whatever.

     There’s a cruel expression etched in the bright blue flames of Grillby’s face, his mouth revealing itself in a rare occurrence just so he could flash Sans his sharp teeth. But even so, there’s a grimace beneath the angered reaction.

     “Fine.” The flame monster stands up straight now, but he still has an arm wrapped around his abdomen for a few moments longer before he straightens the rest of the way out. “Come on, Sans.” He sounds defeated, almost a little annoyed.

     All too quickly Sans wills away his magic and shoves it down into the depths of his core. He only briefly rubs at the eye that had been burning with the magic, sniffling as he feels a line of watery fluids try to leak out from his nasal cavity.

     Damn this sickness.

     He moves to follow after the monster, his sharp teeth bared in a snarl as he catches Grillby watching him in a way that makes Sans want to pull his jacket tighter around himself and pull his hoodie up. But he’s way too damn hot to even think of doing that, so he just pulls an ugly face at the guy and hopes he looks away.

     He doesn’t. Instead he makes his way out from where he usually serves his customers at the counter and heads for the door marked “FIRE EXIT”. ‘Course, Sans has been here enough times to have eventually learned that the door only leads to the ‘home’ portion of the restaurant building; meant for the nights that Grillby was too tired to make the trek back home.

     Sans meets him at the now open door, but he’s no idiot. He stops in front of it and gives the fire monster a pointed look, scowling up at him and waiting.

     There’s a moment of silence that stretches between the two monsters. Grillby’s flames crackle just that little bit louder than normal, a sign Sans has learned to recognize to mean annoyance, and then Grillby is walking through the doorway himself and holding the door open for the kid.

     The two make their way down the hall, passing a few doors that don’t hold any of Sans’ interest. He walks behind the taller monster, smothering down the temptation to step on the heels of Grillby’s shoes just to inconvenience him and take a small bit of petty revenge on him for this whole ordeal.

     But that’d only slow the both of them down, so Sans just wipes at his dripping nose cavity with the sleeve of his jacket once more and follows Grillby in silence.

     Eventually, they make it to the front of a closed door. Neither say anything as the fire elemental slowly cracks it open and peers inside.

     “The hell are you being all secretive for?” Sans asks after Grillby makes no move to open the door further and allow him entrance, watching him closely. Suspiciously.

     He’s motioned to shut up.

     Normally Sans would get fired up at the implication that someone’s talking to him like that, and he can feel it starting even now. A fire is growing deep in his metaphorical guts and fights to rise up in the form of biting words. Now though, he just feels…tired.

     He’s still angry as all hell, nothing could ever replace the anger and _betrayal_ he feels over the fact that an adult he thought he had trusted had pulled this shit on him. But there’s nothing stopping the fatigue settling deep in his bones.

     So he pushes past Grillby without a word and slips into the room he’s been peering into.

     It’s a bedroom with bare walls lacking any form of decoration that would make any indication as to who it belongs to. Even the bedside table is free of anything but a simple lamp.

     Next to the table however, is a bed.

     A bed in which Sans can clearly see his little baby brother sitting up in, wiping at his eye sockets and sniffling. He’s already small as he is but the sheer size of the bed dwarfs him into looking even smaller, even more fragile than usual. He’s clad in his red pajamas and nothing else, wrapped loosely in a light yellow baby blanket and surrounded by a few pillows and a larger blanket to keep him from crawling off the edges of the bed.

     For a brief moment, Sans feels nothing.

     He can feel the weight of Grillby’s stare on his back like it’s a physical thing. It bores into his very soul as he’s watched for every move he may make.

     He can feel the warm liquid dripping from his nasal cavity again, threatening to drip past his sharp teeth.

     He can feel his bones rattle at the cause of a lot of things.

     But emotionally, for that short merciful moment, Sans feels nothing.

     And then the soft hiccupping noise of Papyrus’ crying picks up again. He’s spotted his older brother.

     Papyrus’ cries work up in volume and he reaches out towards the older skeleton with his short little arms, speaking incomprehensibly in a language only a baby like him can understand. But the message behind the seemingly meaningless babbling is clear.

     He wants his big brother.

     Sans feels as if he has just eaten a full serving’s worth of molten lava. There’s a burning hot rage sparking inside of him and he can hear the joints in his fingers creaking as he tightens his hands into painful fists. It’s taking him everything to not lash out at Grillby right this second; to not will up the power to summon a good few nifty sharp bones to rise up from the earth and impale Grillby on the spot.

     No, right now he needs to get Papyrus and himself the hell out of here effective immediately.  

    There’s a heavy hand grabbing him by the arm. The hold is a stern and tight one, but not painful.

     Sans doesn’t even turn to look at the fucker behind him. He knows that actually looking at him will wipe away any ounce of self-restraint he has left.

     “Don’t get close to him.” Grillby warns.

     “Like hell I’m listenin’ to you.”

     Sans yanks his arm out of the older monster’s grasp only to have it return immediately after, tighter this time.

     “The kid’s sick and the same goes for you.”

     “I don’t care.”

     There’s a pull at his arm. Sans plants his shoes firmly against the wooden floors of the room and clenches his jaw as he narrows his eyes dangerously.

     Grillby better not be trying to play this fucking game with him.

     “Well I’m sure you’ll care once you get your brother dusted thanks to your paranoia over letting someone look over him while you’re as sick as you are.”

     That’s enough for Sans to finally whip around and face his perpetrator, shoving his hands into Grillby’s abdomen in an attempt to push him back. It works well enough to get him to step back, at least.

     “Y’know damn well no one can be trusted in this god-forsaken town! In this god-forsaken underworld!” His words come out hysterical, furious, _heart broken_. The heat of anger blotching his face red and mingling with the warm wetness of the fat tears falling down his cheeks goes ignored by Sans. He’s given up on trying to wipe himself clean by this point.

     “How the hell are you going to call me paranoid over the safety of my own damn brother when you’re here, going around kidnapping him and trying to take him from me! Huh?!” Another shove to Grillby’s midsection has him stepping back.

     “Sans…-”  

     “No! Don’t fucking ‘Sans’ me!” His voice is getting higher and higher with each exclamation. It’s taking a lot of effort for him to get the words out. He’s too angry to feel any shame and embarrassment over the vulnerability he’s showing right now and the way his words sound as if they’re coming from a squeaky balloon.

     “You’re nothing to me! You’re not a friend, not a neighbor, not even a damn acquaintance anymore!  You’re just as bad as every other fucking monster out there!”

     He’s stopped trying to push Grillby out of the room.

     They both notice how his legs tremble underneath him. How he’s mostly leaning his weight on the other by now.

     “After this…” Sans whispers shakily, keeping his head low and his narrowed eye sockets trained on the wooden panels beneath his shoes. He tries to ignore the watery red droplets falling onto the floor. “After this, I want nothing to do with you. I’m going to take my brother and you’re going to stay away from the both of us.”

     Sans thinks of how much harder it’s going to be to get food again without Grillby there to give it to them. He thinks of how much more crying Papyrus is going to do again, of how filthy the both of them are going to start feeling again soon after this.

     Just like the old times.

     He wishes he had a tongue to bite down onto until he bled to stop the shivering sobs that are threatening to crawl their way up his throat.

     “I don’t care.” He tells himself, digging his fingers into the fabric of Grillby’s clothing.

     The other monster hasn’t had the chance to even say anything before Sans is repeating himself.

     “I don’t care.” There’s a hot red flurry of magic collecting in his palms. Not enough to properly form any attacks, however. So he’s left digging his fingers even deeper into Grillby.

     Grillby’s words echo within his mind.

     _‘I’m sure you’ll care once you get your brother dusted.’_

     The noise of a heavy liquid hitting fabric sounds out from behind him. The resulting wail that follows right after keeps Sans from looking back.

     He doesn’t have to look to know that the stress of the situation has gotten to Papyrus. Enough so that, sick and young as he is, he’s thrown up.

     Seems like ‘the old times’ are starting back up already.

     Sans drops to his knees, expression helpless and lost as he stares straight ahead. His hands are holding onto the sleek press of black pants in front of him.

     He’s shaking violently now.

     Those three words are leaving him over and over again in a hushed, desperate whisper. It’s all he can say, all he can think to say.

     Maybe if he says it enough, it’ll actually come true.

     “I don’t care.”

     The crying behind him continues.

     “I don’t care.”

     Grillby isn’t saying anything.

     “I don’t care.”

     A thick bubble of nausea starts to well up from within him.

     He follows in Papyrus’ footsteps, spilling his sickness onto the floor and onto Grillby’s shoes. It’s a thin, watery mess of magic and what little food he had to eat for the day.

     It wasn’t a lot.

     For a moment, Sans just stays where he is on his hands and knees. His eyes are kept shut to the world around him and cold beads of sweat drip down his head.

     He’s able to stay quiet like this, to keep from making any noises whatsoever so long as he keeps himself just as he is right now.

     But there are warm hands slipping underneath his arms. He’s being lifted into the air, slowly and methodically as if he were a spooked animal. Despite the mess he’s made of himself and the way he gives his legs a few weak kicks that mark their landing against Grillby’s body, he’s still brought up to the older monster’s chest.

     With a care that Sans has never familiarized himself with, Grillby cradles his head and buries his young face into his shoulder, rubbing a hand up and down Sans’ back.

     Sans takes a sharp, shuddering breath and presses his face deeper into Grillby’s chest.

     Finally, he screams and wails just as he has heard his brother do one too many times.

     Grillby holds him throughout it all, keeping him close and ignoring the way Sans repeatedly punches his tiny fist against the opposite half of Grillby’s chest as he finally vents out his emotions.

     “Why?!” Sans cries out, wailing his sorrows into the chest of the only monster he’s allowed to show him a kind hand.

     “I don’t know why, Sans.” Grillby speaks, voice oddly low and calm compared to his usual cocky and snarky tone of talking. Sans just cries even harder at the way his voice makes his soul _ache_ in response to finally facing what he’s been needing his whole life.

     A gentle voice, a soothing hand.

     “But I’m not going to leave the two of you to dust any time soon. Just let me help you, and you won’t have to worry about surviving.”

     _A heartfelt promise._

     Sans just nods, because it’s all he can do right now asides from cry.

\-----

     “Sans?”

     Sans looks up from where he had last been staring off to as he zoned out, blinking dazedly and refocusing his gaze. To the side of the dining room table he sits at stands his little brother, though the ‘little’ part of his description accounts only for his age.

     By now Papyrus towers over his older brother.

     “Yeah, boss?” He asks, grinning lazily at the other skeleton as he refers to him to the very first name Papyrus had made up for himself.

     He made it himself when he had only been five, declaring that it was an appropriate enough title to strike fear into the hearts of monsters who heard it.

     Of course, the only reason Papyrus had thought this was because of all the times he’d hear monsters anxiously murmuring to one another about their boss and how screwed over they would be by them.

     He had thought ‘boss’ was a term used for only the scariest of monsters.

     It earns him a huff from the taller skeleton, but he doesn’t reprimand Sans for it.

     “I have been searching the house for any dastardly devices we may have that could assist me in the construction of my clever traps, not that I need much assistance with such activities when my sheer intelligence is more than enough! But, I came across a photo album.”

     It’s only then that Sans notices the album Papyrus has resting against his hip, and it’s soon pushed in front of him.

     “With a trait of observance as fantastic as mine, I couldn’t help but notice that you appeared to be rather…fatigued in these photographs.”

     Sans is silent while he watches Papyrus flip the album open to the first few pages, pointing to the photos that he remembers Grillby had taken of them when they were mere little baby-bones.

     He had been five, nearing six, and Papyrus was only a baby.

     “While you were looking the picture of death, rings under your eyes and stains on your clothes; I noticed that I seem to be in perfect health in each photograph.”

     A red glove covered finger points to a few photos, all of them showing Papyrus to look as any normal infant would.

     “It did not take much thinking for me to realize that this was your doing, Sans.”

     “Aw, boss. You don’t gotta worry yourself about that crap. It’s nothing-”

     He’s silenced by a raised hand in his face, Papyrus’ sockets narrowing into thin slits.

     “Silence. I recognize hard work and perseverance when I see it. While you may be a filthy, stinking bag of bones that reeks of mustard more often than he should, I realize that you have put in a lot of effort into our lives.” He frowns, looking off to the side as if he’s thinking.

     “You have put a lot of effort into raising me, foregoing your own health in favor of mine.” He looks down at the table and his expression scrunches up. Sans can only watch his brother glare down at the table as he delves deep into thought, feeling his own soul tighten up as old wounds start to feel acknowledged.

     “I wish only to thank you.” He’s lost his confident composure as he continued to speak, but seems to regain it some with his next words. “If you have managed to raise a skeleton as great and terrible such as myself, you surely must have done a lot right in raising me. Even if you did so alone.”

     Fuck.

     Sans feels his soul clench up in his chest, his grin growing even as he feels the threat of tears oncoming.

     “Nah,” He finally says, flashing Papyrus his ivory white teeth (and a single golden tooth) in a big smile.

     “It was a joint effort.”  

**Author's Note:**

> sorry i know that the underfell grillbs that's preferred by the fandom is purple but.......i love the blue grillby design so much more. hope you enjoyed anyways though! expect more undertale, i've fallen back into the fandom /hard/ after revisiting it for nostalgic reasons


End file.
